


The Pilot and the Aspiring Actor

by ZeroToWeirdo



Series: Hartwin Meet-Cutes [7]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Fluff, Harry watches movies, M/M, Meet-Cutes, Some Swearing, a little frustration, a lot of awww, just FYI, lots of movies, meet cute, roxy comes in the second chaper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 13:16:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8163307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeroToWeirdo/pseuds/ZeroToWeirdo
Summary: One of them is a pilot, and the other is an aspiring actor. Lack of sleep, early hours of the morning and general panic are involved. Will love blossom or will airport security divide them? Will blood be shed? Will I be getting any more over-dramatic? Just some vocational Hartwin meet-cutes, proving that no matter what path they chose, all roads lead to Hartwin.





	1. Chapter 1

Harry and Merlin had a system. Ever since they'd been roommates fresh out of the flight academy, they'd shared the cost of what they could, from the obvious rent and utility bills to the less obvious (or simple) car.

 

When they were students, they maintained a similar schedule in order to carpool to the academy. When they began flying commercial flights for the same airline, they had created a system of carpooling and chauffering each other to and from the airport. As time went on, they'd gotten their own houses and eventually moved on to different fields and what had started as necessity, when neither had been able to afford a car and its upkeep on their own, eventually became a convenience neither were willing to part with.

 

While Merlin was in the private charter business, Harry had remained in commercial piloting but contemplating a teaching position at their old academy. What had not changed was, apparently, their joint custody of their rickety old car that looked uncannily like a ‘seen better days’ London cab. They had been mistaken for such on more than one occasion.

 

Merlin often attributed the car for keeping them together, equating their detailed scheduling of turns as them being civil for the child's sake. Harry liked to think they were simply old dogs uncomfortable with learning new tricks.

 

It was a good system that worked well most days, not so well on others. 

 

Today was one of _those_ other days.

 

Harry found himself waking up at three in the morning with his phone screeching a bagpipe solo in his ear. It had seemed a good idea at the time to make that Merlin’s ringtone...he had never before known such regret. 

 

“What?” 

 

“Need you to send me to the airport.” 

 

Blast Merlin and how alert and refreshed he sounded at that moment.

 

“This...is not in our schedule.”

 

“Change of plans, Chester King decided he needed to go to Vegas. You have Darling, I expect you around in 40 minutes.”

 

“But I'm on holiday!”

 

“Should've gotten out of the country like a normal vacationer when you had the chance, then. 39 minutes.”

 

A click informed Harry that Merlin had hung up on him. He took that as an invitation to flail and flop for a moment like a hooked fish and whine petulantly into his pillow. He allowed himself an allotted 2 minutes of wallowing and internal griping before getting and putting on decent clothes, in this case his dark jeans and a maroon jumper. 

 

In 35 minutes, he was outside Merlin's house.

 

Rolling down the window, he shouted “Get in, loser, we're going shopping.” to which Merlin flipped him off and tossed his bag in the trunk. He had two paper cups of coffee from the nearby coffee shop with him, which he expertly juggled while manoeuvring into the tiny passenger seat.

 

“Don't start.” Merlin hissed and slid into the car, handing Harry his coffee. 

 

“Why so gripe-y, oh captain my captain?”

 

“If you want to carpe another diem, Harry, I'd advise you to stop with the pop culture references.”

 

“In all seriousness though...what's the matter?”

 

“What do you thinks is the matter?”

 

“Chester bloody King?”

 

“Chester bloody fucking King.”

 

“What’s he done now? Aside from ripping us from the warm bosom of restfulness.”

 

From the decidedly composed manner in which Merlin placed his cup into the cup holder (which they had installed themselves in the academy, and by ‘installed’ they meant crazy-glued dangerously close to the hand break) Harry knew he was in for a whirlwind of a story.

 

The half an hour drive through the darkness of 3am was spent filled with Merlin’s thick brogue, every four-or-so words being brutally interjected by increasingly creative expletives, to the point where Harry was sure he was just making it up.

 

He went on about Chester bloody King and how he was pushing for Merlin to become his personal pilot for when he bought his private jet next Wednesday, which he explained his godchild would love to try flying as he was getting ‘so good at those simulator things’. He also mentioned that said Chester shithead King had the brilliant idea to buy a Black Hawk and was planning on refurbishing it to look like something out of a Jersey Shore prom king’s wet dream.

 

“And his baboon-brained godchild Charlie had the brilliant idea to open his muckmuncher and suggest that _I fly that abomination of a helicopter._ Do I look like I can fly all airborne machinery known to man? Do I look like I belong in the bloody A-Team?!”

 

“It’d probably be more like Black Hawk Down.”

 

“ _Precisely._ ” Merlin hissed, swallowing down his now cold coffee. “Drop me off at arrivals, I need to go see a man about a horse. And by horse, I mean an ass.” He muttered darkly about visas and late flight schedules.

 

By the time they arrived at Terminal 1, Merlin was relatively resigned to his fate and Harry was more than a little amused. “Maybe you should think of going into teaching too, Merlin. Getting a little tired of these 4.30am conversations.” He suggested, to which Merlin just grunted and adjusted his pilot hat and exiting the car. To be fair, it was a rather promising sounding grunt. Harry knew the man had taken his advice to heart.

 

Said man had managed to get his luggage out of the car before Harry remembered they needed to split the petrol money. He popped open his door and mentioned it to Merlin, who just grunted again and handed Harry 20 pounds. “A tip for the horrendous working hour.” he explained when Harry tried to give him change. “Much appreciated, Captain.”

 

Harry contemplated if he should get back to bed, or perhaps get some breakfast, when someone jogged up to the car in a hurry, lugging two large suitcases behind him, before stopping suddenly a few feet away.

 

“Sorry, but…are you an Uber?” the man asked quickly.

 

Harry was quite tempted to ask a few questions. Namely, would the young man leave if he said no? Would he not kindly get into the car and let Harry whisk him off into the sunset? What’s your name, what’s your sign? To name a few.

 

Instead, he found himself asking “How can I help you?”

 

The young man’s face erupted into a grin so honest and bright, Harry fought the impulse to look behind him to make sure the sun wasn’t rising from the South that day.

 

“I need a ride to Terminal 2, I don’t have the app but I’ll pay you all I have. Everything’s fucked, you have no idea, there were no direct flights to Cardiff so I bought my tickets from LAX to transit here, but I thought Terminal 1 and Terminal 2 were a reasonable distance so now I’m here and they might as well be on opposite sides of England for all I can’t walk it, adn I can’t wait for the next free inter-terminal shuttle or I’ll miss my flight, and I can’t get a cab because they charge 20 pounds for the ride and I’ve got 12 left on me right now, and I don’t have time to find a money changers and I need to get home, my mom-”

 

The young man’s flustered (adorable) rant as he helped Harry cram his oversized luggage into the trunk was interrupted by what appeared to be terminal police.

 

“You can’t pick up customers here.” He snapped.

 

“Excuse me?” Harry asked, a little confused by the man’s hostility, though dawn duty probably an attributing factor.

 

“You can’t pick up Uber customers here, you have to go to the Uber pickup point.”

 

“You mean a floor down?” Eggsy asked quickly, his eyes flashing to the side as though calculating how fast he could run there for Harry to pick him up.

 

“That’s the cab pickup. Uber is down a floor and across the terminal.”

 

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken-” Harry tried to reason, but the officer raised his hand, interrupting him. Rude.

 

“No excuses. Go to the Uber pickup point.”

 

“I don’t have time for this, my flight is-”

 

“The Uber pickup point. You’ll be there in 15 minutes if you leave now.”

 

If this young man’s smile was a sunrise, his nearly teary eyed frustration was a sudden icy shower, and Harry felt a thunderstorm rising in his chest at the sight.

 

“Officer, I’m-”

 

“This is the airport law. Rules are ru-”

 

“I’m a fucking pilot, not a Uber driver. Here’s my wallet, kindly help yourself to my airline identity pass while I get this bag in the trunk and…uh…” he peered inquiringly at the surprised young man.

 

“Eggsy.”

 

“-Eggsy has a well-deserved rest in the car. Hmm?”

 

The officer, now a little flustered as he rifled through Harry’s wallet, allowed Harry to finish shoving the large suitcase into the car before tossing the wallet back at Harry.

 

“Move it, you’re blocking traffic.”

 

“Have a nice day.” Harry replied curtly and slammed his door as he entered his car, murmuring “ _It’s airport law nyenyenyehh”_ as he drove off.

“So, Eggsy, Terminal 2?” he asked finally.

 

“You’re not an Uber.”

 

“Never said I was.”

 

“But, that man was paying you, so I thought-”

 

“Just a friend handing over a little petrol money.”

 

“Ah…well…I’ll pay you anyways.”

 

“I’d rather you just tell me what’s got you rushing to Wales in such a rush.”

 

“My mom’s giving birth.”

 

Oh dear. “I…am afraid I may have overestimated your age…”

 

“Planning on kicking me out, now I’m not legal?” Eggsy asked cheekily.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous. Though I’m going to have to go about this 5 minute trip in a less flirtatious manner.”

 

“How chivalrous. Don’t bother, I’m 23.”

 

“If you don’t mind me asking…how…”

 

“Mom had me when she and my dad were 17. They weren’t planning on having another child, but Daisy came about. Wasn’t supposed to be born for another week, so there’s a ticket I’ve bloody well burned.”

 

“Ah, a girl then?”

 

“We don’t actually know yet.”

 

“But you said Daisy….?”

 

“Figured it was appropriate regardless, seeing as the pregnancy just popped up out of the blue.”

 

“…I suppose Daisy is a beautiful name, regardless.” Harry said hesitantly. He wasn’t too sure about that, but surely a rose by any other name and all that, right? Say a name often enough and it conforms to the gender, not the other way around.

 

He could hear Eggsy chuckling after a while and turned to see him looking at him rather cheekily. “I won’t force my brother to be named Daisy, you know. He’d never hear the end of it in school.”

 

“One way to set the bar in sibling adversary high, right from birth.”

 

“I’d rather just love ‘em. I’ve always wanted a sibling. Now, I’m sorry, but it seems I haven’t asked your name.”

 

“It’s Harry. Harry Hart. Pleased to meet you.”

 

“Thank you very much for your help, Harry Hart.”

 

They talked on as Harry drove into Terminal 2 departures, only getting so far as to learn that Eggsy was an aspiring actor with an upcoming minor role in the next Nicholas Sparks film. He didn’t mention that those were the films he despised most, especially since he was sure that Eggsy’s presence in one would surely rectify that.

 

Harry was almost hesitant to watch the young man go, but once the brakes were on, the rush had returned and Eggsy was out of the car like a shot.

 

They both wrestled the large bags out of the trunk and piled them onto a nearby trolley.

 

“You sure you don’t want payment?” Eggsy asked, clutching his passport in one hand and the trolley handle in the other. He looked ready to sprint off at any second.

 

“A smile would suffice.” Harry insisted, and was instantly rewarded with a megawatt grin.

 

“Thanks so much, Harry. You’re a lifesaver.” Eggsy said before pushing off towards through the crowds….for about 4 heart-breaking feet, before he stopped and rushed back to Harry.

 

“I forgot to get your number.” He said quickly, pulling out his phone. Harry rattled it off instinctively, just getting past the last digit before Eggsy gave him a quick peck on the lips and was once more ploughing through the throng of people towards baggage check in.

 

Harry wasn't ashamed to say that he had to be driven out of the departure hall by a flurry of beeps, though they might as well have been cheers with how exultant he was feeling in that moment. Checking his watch as he left the airport premises, he realised it was just around 5.00am. My, how life can change in two hours.

 

He calculated the time it would take for Eggsy's flight to land in Cardiff and smiled to himself. Hopefully, in another two hours, his life would just get better. He couldn't wait to tell Merlin all about it when he would fetch him from the airport, and perhaps ask him to pass some thanks to Chester bloody King. At least the man was good for  _something._

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've come a long way. Now, The Flight Academy Teacher and the Actor.

Harry wasn’t going to lie…he was petrified.

 

“Eggsy, I don’t understand how you can be so calm about this.” Harry insisted, pacing in front of his television set, Merlin throwing popcorn at his head in protest at his constant screen blocking. His protest was graciously silent, though, seeing as it was an intermission. His shrill protests would probably come about in a minute or two, though.

 

Harry paused a moment to appreciate the soft chuckle from over the phone, giving Merlin just enough time to get two pieces of popcorn to perch in his stress-tossed hair.

 

“It’ll be fine, Harry. No matter what happens, it’ll be an honour to have even been nominated.” Eggsy insisted, sounding far too amused on the other side of the phone. Harry could hear the bustle of an active set in the background.

 

“Don’t say that, that’s what people say when they’ve given up. Say you’re going to win, and if you don’t, say it’s rigged.” Harry muttered, earning him another chuckle and a kernel to the ear.

 

“That’s your line, love. Will they be announcing it soon?”

 

“Yeah…judging by my nausea, I’d say we’re just about there.”

 

A short pause as they both gathered their wits a moment.

 

“I don’t understand why you couldn’t be there, Eggsy. This is your first Oscar.”

 

“It’s my first Oscar _nomination._ And it was my choice to stay on the _Rone_ set. I’d rather not interrupt the momentum we’ve got going on here…I feel really good about this movie, Harry. The writing, it’s…I think this is the one that could really make me.”

 

Harry smiled to himself at the thought. Yes, Eggsy was one of the most passionate people he knew, and he was more than aware that _Rone_ being the one that could ‘make him’ had nothing to do with his zeal. He truly believed in the message of it and Harry couldn’t blame him.

 

“I thought that horrendous walking movie is what made you…I mean, it’s what got you the Kingsman role.” He teased, deciding not to call Eggsy out on his bleeding heart just yet.

 

“Are you insulting my beloved ‘A Walk to Remember’ remake? You cruel man. I understand it isn’t a Tarantino, but be kind.”

 

“To you, always, but you _know_ I only watched your scenes. That main actor was trying far too hard to be a ‘bad boy’, it was nauseating. And that caricature Pastor? I weep.”

 

His rant was interrupted as the screen lit up in red and gold once more, and the Oscars logo emblazoned on the screen. Harry gave an indignant squawk when Merlin pulled him down onto the couch by the belt.

 

“Sit your arse down and let me hear the results.” Merlin warned, bespectacled eyes trained on Jennifer Lawrence and Hugh Jackman as they prepared to announce the nominees.

 

Harry could hardly protest. He couldn’t feel his legs, let alone stand on them anymore.

 

“Fuck, Eggsy, why aren’t you there? I think your face on the screen would make this more bearable.” He whispered.

 

“You’d think _you_ were being nominated.” Merlin griped, but didn’t protest as Harry stole his softest pillow to hug, as a show of solidarity to Harry’s plight.

 

They watched as the names for the lead actors roles were read aloud. They listened as the crescendo echoed through the small apartment. They held their breath as the following silent pause as Jackman and Lawrence inhaled proved to be more deafening than the drumroll.

 

And finally, they jumped to their feet in howling battle cries when as soon as the first syllable was out of their mouths.

 

“GARY LEE UNWIN FOR HIS ROLE IN KINGSMAN!” Harry cheered loudly, nearly dropping the phone as Merlin practically body slammed him in celebration, before running off to get the alcohol from the kitchen.

 

“You’re an Oscar Winner, Eggsy!” Harry cheered, his phone pressed to his cheek as he bounced about the room, pent up nerves turning into kinetic energy in their victory.

 

“I love you.” He heard the fond coo over the phone. To think he had thought his grin couldn’t get any wider, or his day any better.

 

“I love you too, Eggsy. Now go celebrate! I can hear the cheering near you. Have fun. I’ll call you tonight?”

 

“Absolutely. Not too late, don’t forget you’re invigilating that meteorology exam tomorrow. Bye, Harry.”

 

“Talk to you alter, Oscar Winning Gary Lee Unwin.”

 

“Daft old man.”

 

Harry laughed aloud as the Merlin dumped a cold beer in his hand and showered him in more popcorn. Today was surely a day to celebrate.

 

* * *

 

 

Roxy loved Eggsy, she truly did, but today was just NOT a day to celebrate.

 

And bless his beautiful every loving angel soul because the moment he saw her, being dragged into the local Italian bar by their supporting cast, he had given her a knowing look and led her back out into the night, a couple beers in hand.

 

“Crisis ongoing, then?” he asked knowingly.

 

“God, Eggsy, it must look so petty. I mean…the script has been finalised by everyone that matters. It’s been reviewed, accepted, _raved about._ Why do feel the need to mess with something good?”

 

“Because clearly you know it isn’t good enough.” He said seriously, taking a swig out of his bottle.

 

They overlooked the steady flow of the Adige, watching as the street lights illuminated little patches of water. The light looked like it was moving, yet staying in one spot…as though the river had become a treadmill, and the lights ran on and on and on intending to go upstream yet moving nowhere. She gulped down half her beer, trying to wash down the vitriol of her thoughts.

 

“I’m being greedy.” She murmured. She could almost hear their producer’s sharp voice speaking in tandem with her words.

 

“You’re being ambitious. You’re chasing perfection, as you should.”

 

“There will be other stories to write, I should sign the mock-script and send it back.”

 

“I notice you said sign, not approve.”

 

“….that’ll come later, with time.”

 

“It’ll come _never_ , Roxy. Love, you’re far too set in your heart for you to settle it this way.”

 

“Don’t be such an enabler, Eggsy.” She teased, but the weight on her voice had not lightened.

 

The truth was, she was at a distressing impasse. She hadn’t realised how fortunate she had been until this point in time. After all, she was just reaching 30 and had already written for numerous BBC series scripts and had a few years as a proof-reader in Hollywood under her belt.

 

She’d gotten to meet one Gary Unwin on the set of _A Walk to Remember_ nearly ten years back (imagine that) and he had so inspired her to create her main character, Ennis Rone, and from there the character had steered the story line into what it was today.

 

Up till that moment she was sure Rone had dictated the world-building and character development of himself, everyone and everything around him, leading to the murder mystery. If she didn’t know any better, she almost thought the fictional character was ghost-writing for her, everything had gone to paper so effortlessly as though one day she had woken up and _known_ what to write _._

 

Except that trend seemed to have stopped completely, as she was now at a loss as to how to end the damn movie.

 

She’d had Rone’s troubled and abused past coming to light in the wake of his gradual vision loss from the sudden onset of macular degeneration.

 

His discovery of his father’s murder from his late mother’s old shoebox of notes and letters.

 

The uncovering of a half-sister he hadn’t known he’d had, who had been all but sold secretly to a couple in Italy who’s own child had died of SIDS.

 

The exposure of his stepfather’s decades-old plot to completely destroy all trace of the lineage of the man he despised but knew nothing about, one Braiden Rone.

 

She’d had Rone battle head on with social and class issues, made him face abuse and ableism, made him wrestle with his own depression and apathy. She’d brought him to the mouth of the beast of masculine pride that had resulted in the violence that was his childhood and the destruction that was his family.

  
She’d built his life as a horrible mess and had him rebuild it brick by stubborn and glorious brick, and he’d come out wonderfully…but incomplete.

 

The resolution and absolution and vindication were present but somehow something was missing, but no matter how she thought on it, she didn’t know what it was.

 

And it was eating away at her soul.

 

She had, now, two options before her. Take more time to wait for the true ending to come to her, or surrender and leave it unfinished, at least in her mind. With pressure coming from all around, she wasn’t sure if she should push her luck for something that seemed illusive to the extreme.

 

“Do you know why I took this movie?” Eggsy asked absently, rolling the smooth bottleneck between his fingers.

 

She raised an eyebrow at the sudden question. “…because it was a good career opportunity?” she asked carefully.

 

He chuckled and nodded. “I don’t deny that…but…did you know that I turned down the role as Clint Barton in Hawkeye, for _Rone_?”

 

Just when she thought she’d heard it all.

 

“What were you thinking?!” she screeched.

 

“I was thinking…that Rone _needed_ to be made. I was thinking that Hollywood didn’t need another hero origin story. What they needed was a man who was slowly losing a physical part of him and decided that it didn’t matter in the face of what he was facing to lose within him. A man whose anger was silent and non-destructive, and gave way to absolution in ways that saved even those he angered against. A man who set his boundaries as _he_ saw them and never for a minute as others demanded he see them. A man with so much love in his heart he could love a child he never knew born of a man he ought to despise, and proceeding to fight the stigma that we are all equal only to the sum of our parts. A man who spoke on the phone _once_ to the love of his life in a way that could make a heart ache, and never spoke of the person again, but instead _proved_ that love to us over and over by refusing to look upon another person with lust or anything more than familial affection.”

 

“You know I only did that to completely bypass adding generic sexual romance, yes?” Roxy asked breathlessly. She hadn’t realised she wasn’t breathing till then. She hadn’t realised, either, how much Eggsy’s opinion of this movie meant to her.

 

“Yes and it was brilliant. Harry absolutely loved the idea as well, it’s one of the reasons I chose _Rone_. He didn’t understand my hesitance for Hawkeye and tried to skim the script. He didn’t sleep the entire night, just reading the entire thing from cover to cover before _demanding_ I take the part.” Eggsy chuckled, but slowly turned confused as he saw the baffled look on Roxy’s face.

 

“You’re gay?”

 

“…I said my boyfriend’s name was Harry, surely you knew.”

 

“I thought that was a nickname! The first I heard his name, you said Harriet!!!”

 

“What? Why would I do that?”

 

“I don’t bloody know, you were drinking and talking on the phone and you called him Harriet!”

 

“Oh my God…you mean, back in the Walk to Remember? Roxy, I called him Harriet the Spy. Because he’d stalked my Instagram photos of you and wanted to know if he had anything to be worried about. That was 8 years ago, Rox!”

 

“You think I’m not aware of that?! Blooody hell, to think I’ve known you this entire time and I hadn’t a clue you were dating a man.”

 

“I’d like to think it doesn’t matter all that much.” He muttered, looking defensive.

 

“Oh Eggsy, no, I’m not mad or upset your dating a man. It’s just…it’s one of those things you try to know about your friends. Sexual preference is important to people.”

 

“Is it, though? Does it have to be so _very_ important? I’d like to think I was your friend before I was your _gay_ friend.” He insisted, turning to look at the river so she wouldn’t see his pout, only to spin around when he heard the shatter of a bottle right behind him.

 

Eggsy wasn’t sure what he expected to see. Maybe a mugger or a drunk person attacking Roxy, or perhaps just Roxy standing looking sheepish for her butterfingers.

 

He was not expecting to see her three feet away and climbing, mumbling into her phone’s mic as she went along.

 

“What the fuck, Rox?!” he shouted after her, only to receive a quick “Thanks, Eggsy!” without a second glance.

 

Eggsy stood there a while, just staring blankly after her for a moment before shuffling back to the bar. He _did_ have an Oscar to celebrate after all, and a drunk call with Harriet the spy to tuck him in at night.

 

 

* * *

 

**Two years later**

* * *

 

 

“And the Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay goes to….I KNEW IT. Roxane Morton, for Rone! Roxy, get up here!” Eggsy all but bounced about the stage as he announced his now best friend’s success.

 

The screen lit up with Roxy’s teary face as she hugged Harry sitting next to her before getting up and moving up the stage and into Eggsy’s arms. “Well done, love.” Eggsy said, handing her the golden statue and inciting a fresh bought of thunderous applause.

 

“I’d like to thank everyone who has made this movie possible. My fellow writers, Payton Smith and Danny Fletcher. Our wonderful director, Matthew Vaughn. Our wonderful cast and crew. All the people who have watched and appreciated the movie. But most of all, as a writer, I’d like to thank my muses.

 

Eggsy Unwin, you were Rone before Rone ever came to be, and every beautiful thing about him is something I’ve seen in you, and wished the world could have a bit more of. Thank you for being your lovely self and allowing another inspirational person, fictional or not, to come to be.

 

I would also like to thank Harry Hart, for unwittingly giving me the crowning leaf to Rone’s laurels, if you would. Allow me to address the subtle, blink and you’ll miss it elephant in the room, concerning the phone call where Rone called his fiancé and said “I love you, Chrissie,” and the end scene where he returns to a lived-in apartment and lays down on a bed with a picture of him and a man on the bedside table.

 

Obviously, this was intentional and very much inspired by Harry, otherwise known as Harriet the Spy. So, in lieu of an explanation, I will paraphrase an Eggsy original.

 

I’d like to think that you all liked Rone before he was _gay_ Rone.

 

At the end of the day he was everything he was, he loved every way he loved, in exactly the same manner with Chrissie the woman as with Chris the man. A love that is so infused in one’s being that it stops being a scene of show and tell, and it becomes something that permeates from your soul and can be seen in every gentle choice you make…that is what we all should aspire to. In the end it is not the label that defines us, it is the love.

 

Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno man...Momo said a thing that made me think, so i wrote a sentence then the sentence wouldn't stop and now we're here and I just don't know what happened. I hope its good though.

**Author's Note:**

> My work is killing me softly, but luckily a holiday is coming my way. Yay sleeeeeeep!!!! and possibly more Hartwin ;P
> 
> Also, I've been thinking of starting a short series on Hartwin sortof crossovers, were Harry and Eggsy ARE my other ships. Like if Hartwin was Destiel, or Hannigram, or Sterek. Stuff like that. Would love to know how that would fly in the Hartwin fanzone.


End file.
